


Salty Stockings

by Mrs King of Hell (Slytherkins)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Humor, arguable waste of perfectly good hosiery and condiments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 19:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19257466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherkins/pseuds/Mrs%20King%20of%20Hell
Summary: Y/N sometimes gets bored whenever the boys are out on a hunt, and so she finds novel (yet productive?) ways to occupy her time. When Dean makes it back home, she’s always eager to show her beau what she’s been up to while he’s been away.





	Salty Stockings

“Pantyhose,” said Dean, giving the thing he’d just been handed a puzzled look. “Pantyhose…filled with salt?”

“Well, this is just a prototype. I needed a material that breathed but was tight enough to hold in salt grains, and this was the first thing that came to mind. They’re pretty heavy duty as far as hose go, but still too fragile to just throw around willy nilly.”

Y/N had been talking nonstop since Dean walked in the door. It was a bouncy kind of talk that she tended to do whenever she was excited. Y/N was often excited, but she was always especially so when Dean finally got back from a long hunt. As nice as it had been to come home to the smell of freshly baked pie and a buoyant smile, Dean was still too lagged from the drive home to quite make sense of what she was showing him.

“Now, if we use  _rock_ salt instead of table salt, that would limit spillage if there’s a run,  _but_ rock salt might also be more likely to result in a run. I don’t know. I haven’t made one of those yet. We’ll see.”  

Dean shook his head but couldn’t help but smile. “Slow down. Go back to the beginning.  _Why_ did you stuff a pair of pantyhose with any kind of salt?”

“Well, that should be obvious,” Y/N said, though Dean’s flat expression clearly stated that it wasn’t to  _him_ , and she huffed out a sigh. “It just seems like everytime one of you lays down a ring of salt, whatever it is you’re trying to keep out just– _whoosh_ –blows some of it away. Almost isn’t even worth the trouble of making a salt circle in the first place, if you ask me. If the salt was  _contained_ somehow, though, the ghosties would have to do a hell of a lot more to break the circle than just fart on it. You can’t very well just stuff salt inside a hula hoop or something, though, and expect  _that_ to work. It has to be open to the air to be effective.  _So._  I figured, if you cut off the legs of a pair of pantyhose and filled them with the right amount of salt, and you closed the loop in a zigzag pattern to allow the radiant effects of the salt to overlap at the seam, you might finally have an effective barrier. You’d have to be careful laying it out, of course, but you wouldn’t have to-”

Y/N’s explanation was cut short when Dean’s fingers curled around the back of her neck to pull her lips to his. Silenced, her arms immediately reached to wrap around his broad shoulders, and for a moment, Y/N melted into the kiss, returning it eagerly.

Dean knew he should be listening instead of attempting tonsil hockey, but he was almost too road weary to follow what she was saying. Besides, when she got carried away like this, she was just so fucking cute, he couldn’t help himself.  

The kiss was heady and lingering…And the instant it ended, she continued as if she’d never been interrupted.

“-be afraid of the circle breaking just because it’s fucking drafty,” she said, though breathlessly, still clinging to him. Dean gave a small chuckle and an endeared shake of his head. “I’ve been sketching out reinforcement patterns to apply to the surface which I think could work to give it more integrity without compromising its effectiveness, so you wouldn’t have to handle it so delicately. Though really, I’ll probably just end up finding a different material entirely.”

Dean finally gave up on kisses and drew back to show both her and the thing in his hand his full attention. “Yeah, no. It’s…it’s a good idea,” he told her with a nod. “Or, it’s the start of one anyway. Can’t honestly remember the last time me and Sam faced down a ghost, but y’know, it might be something we can hand out to other hunters,” he proposed, discreetly dropping Y/N’s ‘prototype’ back onto the table to free his hand to sweep up her back.

She returned his smitten gaze with a sigh. “Wanna know the truth?” she asked with a scrunch of her nose.

Dean knew she was going to tell him regardless, but he played his part dutifully. “From you? Always,” he winked, holding her closer.

“I really think the whole concept is a little flimsy,” she whispered, as though it were a secret, “and I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage anything practical. But I just kept imagining you using it on a hunt and having to bark at people to, ‘ _Stay inside the pantyhose!_ ’,” she said, mimicking the man in her arms, right down to his gruff voice and scowl. Apparently the mental image still struck her as funny and she needed a moment to fight back her threatening laughter. “I just had to make  _at least_ one.”

Y/N’s smile was contagious, and Dean felt one lift his own cheeks in response. It hadn’t been a bad impression. “Hey, you don’t even  _wear_ pantyhose. Where’d you get all these?” Dean asked, spying the remains of several others littering the table behind her.

“The Gettin’ Place?”

“You went out and bought like thirty pairs of tights just to make a ghost-fart resistant salt circle?”

“Hose, not tights. Tights are too dense. And only about a dozen, I wanted to test the different kinds,” Y/N shrugged, placing both hands on Dean’s chest to back him into a nearby chair.

Her interest in the project seemed to have finally been spent. Y/N’s focus turned exclusively to Dean, and suddenly, cute was not the optimal descriptor for the woman looking down at him, spreading her legs to accommodate his knees as she inched closer.

“Y’know… pantyhose aren’t the only things I don’t wear,” she reminded him with a quirk of her eyebrow.

Y/N began gathering up her skirt, and Dean’s hand chased the hem of the fabric, devouring the skin being gradually revealed until it cupped her conveniently bare ass cheek.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere Sammy isn’t likely to stroll in?” Y/N said, combing her fingers through is hair. “I still haven’t properly welcomed you home, after all.”

Dean hummed in approval of this plan. “Honey, you are just  _full_ of good ideas today,” he said, grasping the backs of her thighs to hoist her legs up and around his hips as he rose from his chair.

She clung to him with a yelp and a giggle as he lifted her. “Looks like I’m about to be full of something else soon, too. Speaking of, I  _might_ have anothergood idea,” she whispered in his ear, “but it would require mounting some hardware to the ceiling of your bedroom.”

Dean shivered. “I bet I’m gonna like that one too, then, Darlin’,” he grinned, carrying her down the hall for his Proper Welcome Home. “You can tell me all about it.  _Later_.”


End file.
